"Not so easily, though he has been known before now to ride thirty miles to visit a hotel."
"A shanty, you mean."
"Well, they call 'em all hotels over here, you must remember."
"And would he just take a drink and come back?"
Bob laughed.
"Heaven help him, no. It isn't one drink, nor ten, nor fifty he takes, for he makes a week or two of it."
"I hope he won't take any such long rides while he is with us."
"No. Winslow says we are sure of him for six months, anyhow. Then he'll go to town and knock his cheque down. But come on, Craig and his lads will be waiting for us."
At the most southerly and easterly end of the selection they met Gentleman Craig himself.
He rode forward to meet them, lifting his broad hat, and reining up when near enough. He did this in a beautifully urbane fashion, that showed he had quite as much respect for himself as for his employers. He was indeed a handsome fellow, and his rough Garibaldian costume fitted him, and set him out as if he had been some great actor.